


6. one thing right

by winterfire22



Series: the losers kill It at age 13 and they all go to college together and everything is better [7]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst with a soft ending, College AU, F/M, background reddie, ben hanscom appriciation account, ben is the focal character, benverly - Freeform, plz read in context with the fic after it in the series :), this is NOT a billphobic fic, this is part of my college au in which the losers kill it at age 13 and everything is better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-17 01:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfire22/pseuds/winterfire22
Summary: sure, ben is madly in love with beverly, what about it?or; it would have been a really fun night out if bill wasn't being such a weirdo.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (background)
Series: the losers kill It at age 13 and they all go to college together and everything is better [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490324
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	6. one thing right

A lot of things changed for Ben Hanscom during high school.

Well. Just the one thing. But that one big thing ended up changing a lot of little things.

Like if he orders a milkshake at a diner now, the waitress doesn’t give him that sympathetic ‘are you sure that’s a good idea?’ glance before writing down the order. When he goes shopping for clothes, there are more choices that fit him. If he has to hurry up a flight of stairs or walk somewhere when the sun is out or lift something heavy, he doesn’t have to worry about getting drenched in sweat. Losing weight has improved a lot of things-- that was for certain.

And people started to look at him differently. By the time puberty was done with him, halfway through high school, he had women of all ages looking at him-- glancing up and down, small smiles pulling at the corners of their mouths. 

When you go from being the fattest kid in your class to looking like you belong on a box of Wheaties, a lot changes.

One thing that never changed, though, is the fact that he loves Beverly Marsh.

Ben loves his friends. He loves studying architecture and looking at cool buildings and noticing all the little details that went into them. He loves when he passes a dog in public, and the dog gets excited and tries to make friends with him. He even loves running now-- the wind in his hair, the speed that has become second nature. But none of those feelings have ever been as heavy, as tangible, as life-changing as his love for Beverly Marsh. Just being in the same room as her lights him up.

The two of them had kept in touch all throughout high school, even though he was all the way in Texas. They hadn’t been able to see each other once between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, but they’d written letters. Talked on the phone. Sent post cards. He always knew he would end up following her wherever she landed after high school graduation, and he did-- he got into U of Maine easily, leaving only fifteen or so miles between his fraternity house and her apartment in Bangor. Through a series of unrelated coincidences (and, of course, the fact that Richie was always going to follow Eddie just like how Ben was always going to follow Bev), all seven members of the Loser’s Club ended up between Orono and Bangor, tucked into various dorms, fraternity houses, rental houses, and apartments. He’s glad for all of that-- he really is, he loves his friends deeply-- but he’s most glad that the universe has allowed him proximity to his favorite person he has ever met.

Ben knows she isn’t really his girlfriend-- that she prefers not to use labels right now, that she doesn’t want to be in a serious relationship, that she values her independence. But he also knows that she loves him back. Maybe in a slightly different way than he loves her-- but she definitely loves him. Because she smiles at him and she wants to talk to him when she’s happy or sad or anything in between-- and she hugs him and kisses him and invites him to do the same to her. Because when they end up in bed together, the night finishes with her cheek nestled against his chest and a soft smile on her lips. Maybe she isn’t as crazy passionate about him as he is about her, but she’s happy and comfortable to spend time with him, and that’s more than enough.

Tonight, there’s a nice feeling laced into the air, and Ben figures it must be because of her. (surely, all good things must be because of her! he thinks dreamily.) The music isn’t too loud like it probably is over at his fraternity house fifteen miles away. A thought washes over him; he’s grateful to be here at Richie and Beverly’s apartment, grateful to be with his friends and with her instead of at his frat, where the usual Friday night party is probably in full swing by now. A night of watching Stan and Eddie argue over Scattergories, of listening to WHAM!, of drinking whatever concoction Richie and Bev had come up with-- that would always be preferable to his frat house’s big loud parties.

He’s sitting on the arm of the couch, laughing a little bit as Eddie insists ‘capybara’ is spelled with a K, as Stan demands to look it up in a dictionary, as Richie points out that neither he nor Beverly owns a dictionary.

She touches his shoulder for a second.

“I grabbed you a drink,” she says cheerfully once he turns to look at her. Two beers in her left hand. 

Grinning, he thanks her and accepts one of them. “I didn’t hear you coming up behind me.”

“Hard to hear anything over how loud Eddie is being.”

At this, Ben laughs. Beverly sips her beer, leaning against the wall next to the couch.

(the lighting in their living room is always bad, it makes everyone look bad, but she still looks beautiful, he ponders silently as he takes a sip of his drink.)

“Do you know which one of them’s right?” He asks, gesturing toward their friends with his beer bottle.

“I think Stan’s right, but Richie would chop my body into pieces and store them in the freezer if I said so,” she answers, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length bronze hair behind her ear. “And I don’t know for sure.”

A bit sheepish, his eyebrows lift. He leans closer toward her and speaks quietly. “I don’t actually know what a capybara is.”

“It’s an animal. Like a…” She gestures vaguely, eyes turned upward. Then she laughs a little. “I don’t really know either. It’s like a kind of rodent, I think.”

He can’t not laugh when she does. As she raises her beer bottle to her lips again, he notices a few pumpkin freckles peeking out from underneath the cuff of her flannel shirt. A white smear on her wrist-- probably fabric chalk, since she did just come from fashion school. These things-- the freckles, the oversized flannel shirt, the smear of fabric chalk-- are all so _her_.

“What are you smiling about?” She asks a few beats later, after taking another sip of her drink.

(you! his mind shouts; you you you!!!!)

The grin still at his lips, he shakes his head. “Nothing in particular.”

From his peripheral vision, Ben can see Bill standing up off the floor, where everyone is clumped together after the particularly vicious round of Scattergories. He’s looking at his pager. Frowning. He grabs the phone off its cradle as he passes it, and heads down the hall. Shuts himself in the laundry room.

“Hey, Mike, is he okay?” Beverly asks as Mike stands up too.

“He’s fine,” Mike answers, taking a few empty beer bottles off the coffee table to clean up. “I think it was Audra calling.”

“It’s a C, Eddie, I swear on my son’s life,” Stan says haughtily.

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not go swearing on Andy’s life about spelling,” Richie interjects, reaching a hand between Eddie and Stan.

“But I know it’s a C, so I’m comfortable swearing,” Stan says.

“It’s a K, you motherfucker,” Eddie snaps. “I know about Ks. My last name starts with K.”

“That makes absolutely zero sense,” Stan says.

“Come on, boys, quit with the arguing,” Beverly laughs. “Does it really matter that much?”

“It’s the difference of Stan winning or Mike winning,” explains Ben, who’d been keeping up with the drama. “Eddie really doesn’t want Stan to win again because he’s won like four rounds already, and he and Mike are tied right now.”

Beverly nods gravely. “In that case…”

“Nah, it doesn’t matter,” Mike says easily. He helps Richie put the game away. 

“Are we ready to head to the bar?” Richie asks as he slides the box back into the shelf.

“I am,” Beverly says.

“Yep,” Ben agrees.

“Once Bill gets off the phone, then,” Mike says.

“That’s my cue to head out,” Stan comments. “Have fun at the bars, guys. Be safe.”

“Are you sure you’re good to drive, Stan?” Beverly finishes off her beer and sets the empty bottle on the coffee table.

He glances at his watch. “It’s been thirty-seven minutes since I stopped drinking. I’m fine.”

“Tell Andy and Patty hi,” Beverly adds as Stan shrugs into his jean jacket and grabs his keys. 

“I will.”

A moment later, Bill emerges. He puts the phone back on its cradle, lips a bit tight.

“Ready to go to the bar, Big Bill?” Mike asks him. He nods. Drinks are finished, jackets are donned, and the six friends head out.

It’s fully dark now. And chilly-- a caught breeze hangs in the air. The six of them shuffle about, buttoning or zipping up jackets, pulling sleeves all the way down. Ben feels a hand slip into his. He glances at its owner, a pink tint over his cheeks, and he smiles at her. She smiles back.

Even when they were thirteen years old and he was just the chubby new kid with the New Kids on the Block cassette tape in his walkman, she had been nice to him. Smiled at him. Talked to him easily. He hadn’t written her that poem to make her love him-- he’d written it so she would know she was loved, so she would feel happy for even just a moment-- but he’ll never forget the look on her face when she realized it was from him. The softness in her eyes. The way she smiled at him. 

Lots of little things changed when he lost the weight in high school, sure-- but the way Beverly Marsh treated him never changed. Because she never treated him like the new kid, or the fat kid. From the first time they spoke to each other, she’d just treated him with warmth and kindness.

Her hand feels a little cold. He squeezes it. 

+

There’s a slight possibility that Ben Hanscom has had too much to drink. 

He watches his friends dance-- Richie, Beverly, and Mike, anyway. Bill has gone to the payphone outside with a muttered excuse about ‘reasoning with Audra’, and Eddie is enduring the bar line in the name of obtaining a glass of water. Ben had been dancing with the others, but then the drinks caught up with him-- a few beers at Richie and Bev’s, the obligatory ‘we just got to the bar so we have to go wild’ tequila shot, the ‘hey Ben let’s do another one’ tequila shot, and finally the ‘tequila tastes kind of bad so let’s wash it down with beer’ Coors Light. 

(yeah, he figures, doing the math sloppily in his head-- better quit before it gets dangerous, buddy)

The bar lights are low, and the music is loud, but the air isn’t cloying with the stale emptiness that haunts most parties and bars Ben has been to; because here are his friends, having fun, unconcerned with the rest of the world. Stanley may have gone home, but when any of them are together, the feeling of all of them being together is still present. Ever since the summer after seventh grade, the seven of them have been a family. A family he’s proud to be a part of.

He laughs a little, watching Richie almost trip over Mike’s feet. Mike and Beverly each grab one of Richie’s arms, steadying him, and then the three of them burst into laughter too. He watches Eddie come back with a half-chugged cup of water, which he shoves in Richie’s face, yelling something Ben can’t quite hear but is probably “DON’T GET ALCOHOL POISONING FUCKNUT” or something similar.

The song ends. Breathless, pink in the face, smiling, Beverly comes and plops down next to him in their booth. Mike, Richie, and Eddie slide into the other side. 

“You doing okay, Haystack?” Mike asks cheerfully. “You look a little woozy.”

“I’m fine,” Ben answers with a crooked grin. “Just drank a little too much I think. But it’s fine.”

There are a few inches left in Eddie’s water cup. He forces it into Ben’s hand. “You guys need to drink more water, what, d’you wanna fuckin’ die? Is that it? D’you wanna get carted out of here in an ambulance, Ben? Because like I’m trying to have a good time right now and I don’t want to watch one of my friends die.”

_“D’you wanna fuckin’ die?”_ Richie mimics, shoving Eddie’s shoulder.

“No,” Ben says, laughing a little. He finishes off the water. “I’ll go get some more,” he offers, though he isn’t sure about his ability to make it across the crowded room steadily. “I’ll see if they’ll give me a pitcher and a bunch of cups.”

“Ugh, shut the fuck up Richie, sometimes I swear you’re so annoying you’re taking years off my life--” Eddie goes on, hands gesturing wildly.

He meets Beverly’s eyes for just a second as she lets him out of the booth. They share a flushed grin, mutually ignoring Eddie and Richie’s obnoxious banter. He fights the urge to kiss her right then and there. She doesn’t like PDA-- really, he doesn’t either, but sometimes it’s worth it.

He weaves through the people left on the dance floor, dropping ‘sorry’s and ‘scuse me’s as he goes. It takes him a moment or two, but he manages to catch the bartender’s eye and get the pitcher of water and stack of plastic cups. He carries it back toward their table carefully, almost tripping on a discarded denim jacket at one point. 

When he makes it back, Beverly is sitting by the wall, Bill next to her. Ben slides into the last spot on Bill’s other side. He sets the water pitcher and the six cups down. 

“You guys all better drink like at least a full glass of water before we leave this place and I mean that,” Eddie insists, separating the cups and starting to pour.

Bill is saying something to Beverly. Talking quietly, fully turned toward her. Ben catches a glance at her face-- her neat bronze eyebrows are pulled in toward her nose as she listens.

(don’t be jealous, ben tells himself as eddie shoves a cup of water in front of him. don’t, just don’t, it’s such an ugly emotion and it’s just not necessary. they’re just friends. they’re just talking, and she should do whatever she wants.)

Bill angles his body closer toward her, to the point where he’s almost sitting sideways-- the movement almost nudges Ben out of the booth. He shifts so he’s sitting at an angle, making it easier to fit in the small space Bill has allotted him. He hears Beverly laugh a little bit.

“We should head out soon,” Mike comments, finishing off his water. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, probably, I gotta work at noon tomorrow,” Richie agrees. “And if Doctor K doesn’t get his eleven and a half hours he simply can’t get anything done,” he adds in a transatlantic accent, nudging Eddie with his elbow.

“Shut the fuck up, what does that even mean,” Eddie whines.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ben hears Beverly say, half a laugh trailing after her words. He turns to look at her, but he can’t really see her past Bill, unless he leans over and makes a big deal about it.

“Why not? Come on, it’s not like” (ben doesn’t catch whatever bill says next, but the tone of his voice is weird. he doesn’t sound like himself. ben catches himself frowning a little.)

“Yeah, maybe we should go,” Ben hears himself say louder than necessary. He immediately regrets it. It was a little bit bitchy, and that isn’t him. He takes a gulp of water. Hopes his friends will write it off as an effect of Too Much Drinking. Or that maybe they hadn’t heard it over Eddie and Richie’s continuous string of teasing and weird insults.

“Bill?” Mike asks.

Bill ignores Mike. He and Beverly are still folded up into their private conversation.

Ben scoots out of the booth, grabbing onto the table for balance, since the bar swirls around him a little too much for comfort. His head is beginning to feel heavy. He chokes down the rest of the water left in his cup.

And then he watches Bill lean forward to kiss Beverly.

He blinks. Involuntarily takes a stumbling step back. Watches her pull away from Bill, laughing a little, her cheeks bright red-- 

“Bill, come on, let’s head out,” Mike says, his tone a little more commanding now.

“Yowza, someone put Denbrough on a leash,” Richie says. He, Eddie, and Mike all scoot out of their side too.

Bill is saying something else to Beverly. She’s still laughing, pulled away from him as far as possible, clearly an uncomfortable reaction--

(probably just because i’m here, ben’s mind supplies glumly. she wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.)

“Bill?”

“Yeah,” Bill says, a little huffy, as he scoots out of the booth. Mike touches Bill’s shoulder for a second before glancing at Ben, his soft eyes a little bit narrowed in some silent question Ben can’t really translate right now.

Beverly comes out too, her eyes cast downward. Pulls her jacket on. The six of them head outside.

The walk is quiet. Well-- it isn’t quiet, because Eddie and Richie are bickering the entire time, but that’s familiar background noise and it’s easy to tune out. (richie’s arm is around eddie’s shoulders and they’re still arguing. they’re so weird.) 

(he almost feels a little bit jealous of their weird dynamic. at least it’s something. at least they both love each other.)

Ben shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets, fisted up, and focuses on staying steady.

(she loves me too, though, he thinks as they walk-- but maybe she loves bill more. maybe she just loves me as a friend. maybe that’s all it ever was and she just didn’t want to break it to me. it sounds like bill is broken up with audra-- maybe for good this time-- and if he’s an option maybe beverly won’t want me anymore)

His heart unsteadies itself from underneath his ribcage and threatens to shove up his throat.

They make it back to Richie and Bev’s building. Richie and Beverly offer their couches up like they always do, but Mike insists he’s fine to drive himself and Bill back home to their apartment in Orono, so the two of them head off. 

Beverly’s eyes are still pointed toward the exit to the apartment complex’s parking lot, watching Mike’s car move down the street. Ben’s jaw tightens a little bit. 

(i wonder if i’m sober enough to drive to the frat house, he thinks, but he knows he isn’t-- so he amends the thought; i wonder how long it will take me to sober up enough to drive back to campus, and if i could maybe make an excuse and just sit in my car until then)

“I mean it, Rich, I’m freezing fucking cold, can we go inside,” Eddie complains. Instinctually following the voice, Ben’s eyes shift from Beverly to Richie and Eddie.

A little wistfully, Ben watches as Richie smiles with half his mouth. He wraps his long arms around Eddie from the side and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Eddie smiles a little bit too.

“You guys coming?” Richie asks, glancing toward Ben and Beverly.

“Yeah,” Beverly says, turning away from the parking lot exit.

“I’ll see you guys later." Ben forces a smile. He reaches into his pocket for his car keys.

Beverly frowns, her eyebrows nudging toward each other. “What? No. You can’t drive. You can barely stand still. Come inside.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” he says. “I’m fine. I’ll be really careful. I’m not that drunk anymore.”

(really, he just doesn’t want to admit to her that his current plan involves sitting in his car for twenty or thirty or forty minutes until he feels sober enough to drive, but that’s neither here nor there)

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Please?”

(she doesn’t want me to get hurt………………….. his mind repeats, the usual appreciation he feels toward her flashing around the thought)

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. 

She reaches toward him and takes his hand out of his jacket pocket. The two pairs (saying ‘couples’ wouldn’t be quite right; eddie and richie are a couple, sure, they practically yell the word ‘boyfriend’ from the rooftops, but ben wouldn’t inflict words like that upon beverly, no, he knows she doesn’t want them, at least not right now, maybe not ever, or maybe just not with him)

(friends hold hands all the time, probably.)

The two pairs make their way inside, up the two flights of stairs, and into Richie and Beverly’s apartment. Shoes and jackets are removed. Teeth are brushed. 

He’s brushed his teeth next to her a thousand times. Even keeps a second toothbrush in the cup in her bathroom. Usually he follows her to her bedroom afterwards, but this time he hesitates.

She notices. Turns around. “Ben? Is everything okay?”

“I could sleep on the couch,” he offers.

She blinks. “Are you… I mean, I didn’t want Bill to kiss me, you know that, right?” She asks softly. There’s a shred of embarrassment lacing around the words. 

He tries to keep his eyes bright and his mouth flat. “I don’t want to overstep boundaries,” he says. “I really don’t mind. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch,” she says, coming closer toward him, reaching up to touch his shoulders-- sliding her hands around to his back, pulling him into a hug. She’s around six inches shorter than him. Hugging her feels so good-- resting his chin on the top of her head, holding her close-- “I want you to sleep with me. Is that what you want too?”

“Yeah,” he admits, quietly, almost whispering-- “yeah.”

“Ben,” she says softly, her cheek against his chest, “I don’t feel the same way about Bill as I do for you. You don't have to worry about him. I didn’t let him kiss me because I didn’t want him to. Because he’s not you.”

His chest spikes again, but in a different way. He can hardly catch his breath. He doesn’t know what to say. His mind swirls. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “I don’t feel that way about anyone else other than you.”

He catches his breath. Thinks about all the things he wants to say to her. 

(i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’ve loved you since i met you, oh my gosh, i really have! you are everything good about the world!!! you are so nice to everyone, and so beautiful, and so fun, and kind and patient and creative and lovely!!!!!!!!!!!!)

“Thanks,” is what he says instead. There will be plenty of time for the other stuff. He’s already professed his feelings for her probably too many times.

“Let’s go to sleep, then, silly,” she says, pulling away from him, but taking hold of his hand again.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” He smiles a little bit.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please read the next fic in the series so everything makes sense :) and leave a comment if you liked it!!


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